Blood Roses
by Macmillaine
Summary: An attempt at something less peaceful. Features a very dark Hermione, an angry, but gentle at heart Snape and a lot of fear, pain, physical as well as emotional assault and Death. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

She had first felt this gaze on her at the Yule Ball. It was different than the usual amount of loathing that he portrayed when he laid eyes on his students. There was something hidden inside the piercing stare, even more feral and primitive than blank hatred. Hermione knew this expression too well, had seen it to often in other men... Greed and Lust had stared at her from the depths of Severus Snape's cold, dead eyes. They had trailed down her body, over her shoulders, possessively over her well-formed breasts, down to her legs.

Taken aback, she had tried switching position with Viktor, so he was in front, but she could not escape the gaze of the man, over twice her age. She had almost gagged as she observed his hands with the yellow, broken fingernails pull his robes over his swelled groin. Their eyes had met, and his chapped lips had curled into a crude, mirthless smile. They had opened to reveal revoltingly yellow, crooked teeth and the greasy black curtain of his hair fell back to reveal a haughty expression. Hermione snarled back at him.

Oh how she had hated him that time, with his barely concealed erection pointed at her underneath his clothes and his broken, split lips parted with a vacant look on his eyes. She had hated him above anything else. She had looked deeper, and what she had seen had fogged her mind with sheer, utter hatred for this man. Burried deep inside of him, she saw him, his very core, genuinely for the first time. The weakness in his hateful, black eyes, obscured by a concealing veil of anger and scorn. She had seen an aged, despairing man, wanting to be touched by warm, living hands instead of the cold metal of the kettles he clung to, an empty shell, starving for affection.

The thought had been even more repulsing than his desire for her. It had made her shudder against Viktor's warm body, and the fool had no doubt thought she was shivering for him. He had whispered something in her ear soothingly, while inside of her, primitive, predatory ideas had sprung to live. Her eyes had stayed locked with Severus Snape's as Viktor's hands caressed her's gently.

He had disgusted her more than ever before. It had awoken something inside of her. She had wanted to walk over to him, throw him on top of one of the satin-covered tables and wipe that precious little smirk off his face as she mounted him. She had wanted to tear his clothes off then and there, in front of everyone so they knew that, behind his cold facade, he was nothing but a weak old man. So that they could see what was doing to him, his painfully large erection visible to everyone in the room. She had wanted to toy with him, show him heaven close-up and then the endless depths of hell. Make him squirm and suffer at her hands, force the life back into those emotionless eyes.

In the present, a cloudy sunday evening in her sixth year of Hogwarts, Hermione laughed out coldly, a sound that she had never heard herself make before.

"Are you alright?" Lavender raised an eyebrows at her. Hermione waved her off.

"Just found the solution to one of my homework." she lied easily. The truth was she had been dwelling in her own thoughts rather than finishing that essay for Flitwick..

"I'll leave you to it then." she was trying to keep her voice natural, but Hermione had not missed the hint of fear that her voice carried. It happened more often these days. Even more so than in her first year, people seemed to be avoiding her as if she was a poisonous slug. She knew the expression in their faces. Her lips curved into a thin smile, often, she had observed it in the dungeons, this look of suppressed fear and loathing. Oh yes, how they all hated her..

She was not a true Gryffindor, her often cruel thoughts made that painstakingly clear...

The Ravenclaws hated her, because she outsmarted them all...

Hufflepuff made a large bow around her whenever they saw her, scared that maybe she would use her intelligence for the worst...

She had considered it before. She did not worship Lord Voldemort, or his ways, they were too primitive, a mere struggle to stay alive on the endless search for immortality. She would delve deeper into the darkest secrets of magic, deeper than even the Dark Lord had. What was eternal life to her, if it meant that she would spend it alone. She would raise above Lord Voldemort, she would even the deepest secret of Death. To conquer Death, to force Death onto its knees in front of her, at her mercy, to shape Death as she saw fit...

Hermione belonged in Slytherin... but even the Slytherins hated her, because she was a filthy Mudblood.

She did not have any friends.

She had people she tolerated around her, Harry Potter, who tagged along because he knew she was more intelligent than the whole of Ravenclaw house together. She let him, because he was famous, and no one cared about the bushy-haired, knowledgeable girl at his side while he was around. It was the perfect cover-up, the perfect concealment. She could plan while he held everyone else's attention... the reason she had been able to set fire to potion _master_ Snape's robes in their first year, because his mind was fixed on Harry Potter.

Then there was Ron Weasley, the fool. Only vaguely, she remembered that before the Yule Ball she had felt something for him. Something shallow, but piercing her heart each time he did not understand... he was no match for her intelligence. He tagged alongside Harry Potter, and his stupidity made it easy for her to forget that he was even there. She knew the looks he had started to throw her, the possessive jealousy gleaming in his dull eyes. She dismissed them easily.

It was possible that they had not noticed the change in her.

She had stared into the darkness too long. In endless hours of potionmaking, their eyes had locked often. Hermione had not acted on the impulses to defeat him, to make him helpless at her hands... It was torture to him that she had not, she could see it in the depths of his eyes. He was craving it, _her_, he wanted her to touch him, to make him feel. She had plans for him, plans that were only to be unraveled at the right time, that would render him defenseless and completely at her mercy, at her disposal to do with him whatever she pleased.

At times she thought that perhaps he knew, that perhaps he was reading her mind despite her protections. That perhaps he knew she was to raise above even the Dark Lord. At times, his look changed, became cautious, almost fearful. Oh, he was a smart man, Severus Snape, and although he could not measure up to her, she was enticed by him, as much as he was by her. Only gradually, she let him in.

* * *

The sixth year Gryffindor's last class on Monday was Defense Against the Dark Arts, a double lesson. Hermione had made it a habit to be right on time, never earlier, never later. It made sure that from her first entrance into the dungeon classroom, his eyes lingered only on her. At first, he had taken points from it, but the piercing look with which she had stared into his eyes had made him crack. She wasn't afraid of him anymore, he was nothing.

Instead, he had taken to ignoring her completely, as if her very existence had suddenly ceased to be. It suited her well. It strained his energy to pass up on snide comments about her perfectly-written essays and to block out the view of her raised hand. Ignoring her, he had made sure that she was on his mind constantly.

He swept toward her like a Dementor, his cold gaze fixed on something behind her shoulder as he handed back her essays without a comment. His scrambled handwriting had become worse, and the 'O', scribbled onto the corner of her paper was almost illegible. She gave her very best for those essays, because every 'O' on her work was a painful knife pushed into his stomach and twisted around each time he was reminded on her geniality. It had been difficult at first to restrain herself, but now, she kept to the amount of pages he asked for.

He was still beside her table, handing essays back to Harry and Ron. She glimpsed the upper half of what looked suspiciously like a 'T'. She was the perfect student to Snape, she could not give him the pleasure of a slip. She waited until he moved again, until his crotch was directly in front of her, before she raised her head. As predicted, their eyes met and before he could pretend they were not staring at each other, she curved her lips into the tiniest, most menacing smile she could manage.

The effect was instantaneous. She watched him slip. His eyes lightened up with a sudden grace of life, he froze for the smallest fraction of a second to gape at her. His lips parted ever so slightly, and she was sure his brain twisted painfully at her smirk. His features distorted by a mixture of surprise and longing, but were immediately pulled back into a heated grimace of anger. The reaction awoke something inside her, a cruel fiber that she had only recently discovered.

"Ten- points from Gryffindor." he spat in her face. She was not surprised, she had predicted that as well. Even more, she had counted on him to slip, she had counted on him to drop his pretense and let the hatred sicker through once more. It was time.

"What, why?" Ron shouted beside her. She glared sidewards and he crumbled under her look. It was impossible why he could not simply let the inevitable happen.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. Although this is a fruitless endeavor, I shall hope you will not bother me with your insufferable idiocy again." Snape's voice had dropped to a dark velvet that rung in her ears. Ron wanted to argue, but Harry put a hand on his arm. 'Only one year' he mouthed. It was their hope that after this year, Snape would have left the school, because no one who teached Defense Against the Dark Arts had stayed longer than that.

Snape continued through the rows of tables before he returned to his desk at the front. At his sight, her mind filled with deepest hatred, but her eyes lingered on him throughout the lesson. She watched his scornful eyes, as if he was about to murder them all, she heard his menacingly slow, silken voice instruct them but she knew better than to fall for his pretense of strength. She would break him.

"Today... we will be discussing the _Cruciatus_ curse in detail. I am... however... _aware_ that you have been informed of its effects previously in your fourth year. I shall attempt to refresh your knowledge, or lack thereof, of the malicious curse. Be warned that, in any case of... _interruption_..." and his eyes lingered on Hermione's for a long, daring second, "I shall feel tempted to approach this topic... more practical, perhaps.

"Turn to page two-hundred-and-ninety of your books. The _Cruciatus_ curse is, as I am certain you have been informed before, one of the most dangerous and evil pieces of magic around..."

Hermione felt his gaze upon her yet again, and she waited until everyone else had turned their page before raised a finger to her lips. Carefully, she swirled her tongue around the tip for a moment and lowered it onto her page to turn. Slowly, she raised her eyes to where Snape was standing frozen behind his desk. His throat contracted as he swallowed soundly.

"Another five points from Gryffindor I should think, Miss Granger?" he sneered at her. Oh, it would be the last time he dared to ridicule her in front of the class. She doubted anyone had seen why he was subtracting points, blaming it on his usual amount of asshattery. Ron rose from his seat to argue, but Hermione laid her hand on his arm in a steely grip.

"If cast correctly, it will bring insufferable pain..." and his eyes met Hermione's again, "to the recipient. It's is the most vile, and vicious form of _torture_."

Neville Longbottm swallowed audibly behind Hermione. She clasped her hand to her mouth as if in shock, but in reality it was to hide her smirk. Her gaze fixed on his, she was careful to slide it over her breast and give herself a slight squeeze as she dropped it again. Then, dropping her eyes to his groin, she sighed soundly. Snape's eyes narrowed on her suspiciously. Uncomfortably, he shifted on his spot and his voice faded into the background as he tried to grasp the fleeing thought about what the _Cruciatus_ did to a human body.

He did not look at her again the whole lesson, and she knew he was trying to ignore the, no doubt enticing as much as repulsing thoughts of a Mudblood, flooding his head. Impatiently, she waited for the bell to ring. As soon as it had, there was shuffling all around her, but she stayed still in her chair. Only when the classroom began to empty she filed her books back into her bag and deposited her wand in her robe. Snape had pocketed his wand, he was about to come around his desk again to leave the room. She listened into the silence of the now empty classroom. The voices of the students still echoed through the corridor and into the room. Casually, she ambled into the middle of the room where a corridor between the desks led to the door.

As Snape wanted to pass, she pulled up her leg and rested her shoe against the desk on the other side, effectively trapping him before his desk. Irritatedly, he raised his head to look at her, and his eyes bore into her's.

"What is... the meaning of this, Miss Granger?" his eyes lingered on her red and yellow Gryffindor stockings.

"You've been very rude today, _Professor_." she had dropped her voice to a silky caress. Deliberately casual, she put her right hand on her hips, sliding her pinky toward the fabric of her skirt that covered the naked skin underneath.

Hawk-like and infuriated, Snape's eyes followed the movement. Hermione trapped the fabric between her thigh and her pinky, sliding it upward ever so slightly. Out of a sudden, genial impulse, she had removed her pants during the lesson, which left the air that breezed through the dungeons free to caress her private parts.

Snape seemed frozen on the spot as gravity made short process of the remaining length of her skirt, which slid down toward her hip lightly. She watched him again, his eyes dark and hazy now, his hands slid toward his groin, but he stopped himself. He was too obvious, too starved, too impatient. She was sure he had not even glimpsed her lack of underwear yet...

"Miss Granger?" his voice was hoarse.

"But _Professor_, I've noticed the way you look at me, you perverted old man." she let a sweet smile appear on her lips as she withdrew her leg from the table. She was giving him a loophole, a way to leave... Her gaze dropped to his groin. Something hard and pulsing strained against the fabric of his trousers, but it was barely visible beneath his long, black cloak. Easily, she slid her foot out of her shoe and leaned back on the table.

"_That_ ought to hurt." she said. His eyes were fixed on the corridor behind her, as if he was trying to figure out whether to close the door or not. He swallowed. She could still hear the faint voices of her classmates as she drew the shoesless leg up the table she was sitting on and stretched it toward his groin until her toes touched his barely concealed erection. He drew in breath sharply as her foot made contact with the front of his cloak. Hermione suppressed a small moan as she felt how hard he was, how hard he had become just for her.

"This is highly inappropriate, Miss Granger!" his voice was higher than usual, but he did not move. The panic that had suddenly settled in his eyes worked as a fuel for her arousal. She could feel the wetness building between her legs. She spread them ever so slightly, so that her position finally allowed him to see her bare crotch.

"You've been wanting this for a long time, _Severus_. Haven't you?" she said, wiggling her toes and pushing her foot between the folds of his cloak. Despite herself, she was impressed by size of his desire for her.

"S-Stop." his eyes fluttered shut and he threw his ugly head backward. His mouth opened to reveal his yellow teeth and he breathed hard now, sending raves of reeking breath toward her. At once she felt dirty, tainted by the repulsing sound of his shaky groans, but she continued to drag her toes over the stiff bulge in his trousers.

"You like that Professor, don't you?" she smirked. "Tell me that you do.."

Shivering, he rose his head again to meet her gaze. She almost wanted to shout at him not to look at her, because what she saw was intense. His eyes were hazy like she had never seen them before, and sweat had built on his forehead that made his greasy hair stick to the skin. It was a revolting sight, but somehow satisfying to know that she had caused it. Hermione almost gagged remembering that her foot was buried beneath his clothes, directly on his erection, but she suppressed the impulse to withdraw it. Instead, she pressed down even harder, breathing in his scent, which slowly filled every last corner of her mind.

"Doing this with a dirty Mudblood." Hermione snarled at him, trying to ignore the urge to slide her fingers down to her crotch to get rid of the tension. "You're enjoying this with a Mudblood."

Snape muttered something incoherently, pressing himself against her toes. Then, he took a step aside and flung himself across the table onto her. He buried his head against her neck and Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. She wanted to protest, she had not planned this. He could not go further than she allowed him to. She was about to snap at him, push him off and give him the look she would normally graze the dirtiest slug with, when he raised his head again.

"Please..." he muttered and his eyebrows contracted as if in pain. "Hermione, you can't do this to me."

Something glittered in his eyes and suddenly, Hermione felt more repulsed by him than ever before. He looked pitiful, as if he was about to cry, clutching at her shoulders and waist for dear life. He was shaking in her arms, and she was, for a split second, tempted to put her arms around him in a tight embrace to protect him. But she could not allow herself to do so.

"You're _weak_." she hissed into his ear. Forcefully, she pushed his shoulders and watched him crumple limply at her feet. His eyes gazed at her uncomprehendingly, full of mistrust and hope like a lost child searching for shelter.

"Hermione..." his voice was shaking.

She ignored the impulse to comfort him again, and followed the movement of his body with her foot, stepping onto his groin hard so he winced in pain. Then, she grabbed her bag and without another look marched out of the classroom.

"Pathetic."

**This is a first attempt on something dark and disturbing. A fair warning has to be said: It's going to become even more so as the story proceeds. How did I do with this first chapter? What do you think of it? Is it alright, or still too tame? Leave me a review, tell me if you want me to continue this!**

**Cheers, Mac**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the reviews last time! This chapter includes the reasons why Hermione is like she is as well. I hope you like them. My brain continuously blows itself at the level of disturbing-ness this story has reached. Now this chapter is FAR WORSE than the last, and SERIOUSLY NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. If you are going to anyway, enjoy, and please let me know what you think!**

Bent over the table, glaring at the students like a ferocious beast protecting its food, his long, greasy hair hanging lowly into his soup and his giant beak of a nose almost on eye level with the bowl, Severus Snape's figure was an insult to the naked eye. Whenever the spoon approached his mouth, he would part his thin, broken lips and reveal ugly, crooked teeth that were just as disturbing to the vision as the whole of his form.

Hermione Granger did not respond the gaze of the empty, black eyes that were fixed on her as if the man was in a trance. Deliberately, she avoided even a glimpse of the skinny, bat-like form and the distractingly ugly face.

She felt very strongly about this man, her former potions, now Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Repulsed, revolted, disgusted by his very being. Whenever he opened his mouth to speak, his menacing voice slowly piercing into her eardrums, pure hatred took over her mind. She knew him, of his unacceptable weakness that he dared not show anyone but herself.

The whole week after their first, curious, little incident had happened in his classroom, he had attempted to ignore her. Only, Hermione knew better. She knew he could not, and more often than not had he gazed at her longingly, unconsciously extended a hand or opened his mouth, perhaps in an attempt to hold her after the bell had already rung.

Hermione remembered vividly how he had stood there, looking like a fish on the dry, his mouth opening and closing again, too scared to beg her to look at him. In those unspoken words, designed to make her at least recognize his existence, she had found it yet again. Severus Snape was a pathetic excuse for a man. She could not bear this repulsing, irritating weakness of his mind that had made him beg and plea with her for her contact. That needing tone of his usually cold voice, it made Hermione's anger rise into sheer immeasurable heights, leaving nothing but blind hatred for its owner.

„What's the fuck is he staring at?" an angry voice said beside her. Hermione felt a gentle nudge of an elbow into her ribs. She had no time for gentle. She would not give either of the men that were now focused on her the pleasure of her looking at them. Instead, she kept fixed her eyes on a book titled _Slytherin Snakes- A detailed history of the most noble of the houses and its most promising students_.

She had played with the thought of being adopted by her Muggle parents for a while... she was incapable of believing that a witch of Muggle descent should be as smart and skilled as she was. She had begung to cross reference the names of the listed Slytherin students from the last three decades with birth and death tables. If only she could find a connection between herself and either of those prized students.

Ron seemed not to notice, or foolhardy as he was simply choose to ignore her lack of interest in whatever he had to say.

„Look at Snape eating." said he with a jerk of his head. „Like a wild animal."

„Primitive, really." Harry piped in.

Hermione clenched the cover of her book tighter. Of course she had found Severus Snape in there as well, being a genius in potions and the Dark Arts. Naturally, it had made her laugh, because if he had ever been a genius, he wasn't with her.

"He should be taken points for being the most ugly person in the school." said Ron stupidly.

"The whole world." muttered Harry.

The book provided no distraction as images began to fill Hermione's head, clear enough to make out the red rope burns on Snape's thin wrists. He was on his knees in front of her, his legs bound together, bucking his hips into her retreating hands, and then grinding into the leg of a nearby chair, mad with the need for friction, when she retracted them fully. Through the curtain of greasy black hair she could see his parted lips and the pained moans escaping as the wood scraped over his tender skin.

The thought was sickening, but she could not help shifting her legs as she felt her libido stir. She had no time for this now, but she would see after their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Impatiently, she dragged her eyes back to her Slytherin book and listened to Harry and Ron with one ear. They had come to a halt, evidently waiting for her to take part in the conversation.

„Oh I don't know, maybe he's just had a bad class and needs to loosen up a bit." she said, fully aware of the effect her words would have.

„He's Death Eater, Hermione." Harry looked flabbergasted. „If he gets any looser, he'll probably start using the _Cruciatus_ on us!"

„He's still staring at you, Hermione. As if he's about to spit giant slime-balls from his nose."

"And then devour you" said Harry.

Harry and Ron snickered at the cleverness of their inventing a slime spitting dragon, which Hermione failed to see.

She was not listening. Instead, she focused on the list of nasty transformation spells that had been invented by Slytherin Prefects throughout the decades. Most of them included transfiguration, a subject she was most established in. But then, she was established in every subject, except that she would much rather inquire into the Dark Arts themselves than their Defense. Perhaps that was the reason why Harry had out-shined her in their third year final exam. She had been too focused on trying to capture the very essence of the Boggart's ability to make people fear him.

She had faith that she could transform Snape into the most handsome Prince, if she so desired. With a single wave of her wand, she could fix everything from his hooked nose to his repulsing teeth, but whenever she considered it, she did not want to help him, she only wanted to humiliate him further. Yet again, she found it irritating why the Sorting Hat had put her into Gryffindor. She went as far as suspecting Dumbledore, in an attempt to prevent a Dark Lady. He couldn't twart her, she would make use of her power either way.

* * *

Except for the longing glances, that Snape only threw at her when he was sure no one else would see, nothing had changed in their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Hermione continued to ignore him, and he continued to torture Harry and sometimes Ron. She didn't mind, because after all, they had it coming whenever they opened their mouths in his presence. There had been a time when she would have tried to defend her friends, but they were just as capable themselves, and any sort of speaking up for them would mean that she acknowledged Snape, which she wouldn't. It was worth it, observing him out of the corner of her eyes when he cringed and stared pleadingly at her back as she moved to her place beside Neville.

This lesson was just as normal as any other. They had only just handed in their essays, Hermione's was perfect in both length and content. She would not give Snape any reason to speak to her at all, be it because of a matter of success or failure. She was planning to wait until he broke entirely. Until he was so desperate to converse with her that he would drop the pretense and beg for her attention in front of the whole class. This form of humiliation seemed adequate, and lately, daydreaming about how best to torture Snape had become her most favorite past time.

Hermione knew exactly when she had become hateful like this. After years of suffering Draco Malfoy's taunt and torture, something inside of her had finally snapped. She set herself a task to find out why he, as a pure-blood, seemed to think that he was superior to everyone else. Deeper and deeper she had researched first into ancient families and their blood, traced down every last hint of Slytherin ancestory, and finally came to a halt before the Dark Arts themselves.

She couldn't let this stop her. It would not only confirm Malfoy's accusations that Mudbloods were nothing but weak thieves of magic, but it would also mean that her knowledge was limited. She could not bear either thought. She had hesitated, and the hesitation had angered her even further. Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age was not afraid of the Dark Arts.

At last, she had begun with the books on the subject which were available at the library, and worked her way through every last ancient article and dust covered essay she could find. Finally, she had delved deeper into the Dark Arts than the Dark Lord himself. Over the course of three years, she had accumulated knowledge that was far beyond every other student's dreams, and perhaps even further than most adult witches and wizards.

There was so much to keep her brilliant mind busy and test her limits. On contrary to the pure, white magic they learned at Hogwarts, the secrets she had unraveled in her research were pitch black in their very essence. It had been a challenge at first, and Hermione had started with something simple. Too simple, she thought now, but she had only been testing the waters that time.

The I_mperius_ curse, used on an unsuspecting first year in the Gryffindor common room in her fourth year. It was essential, that this first break of the rule should be one of the noble house that was her home at Hogwarts. A way to show Dumbledore how wrong he had been, but she only realized this later.

She had even felt remorse for the poor first year, forced to strip bare in one of the broom closets. At that point, Hermione had only been testing if she had the power to really work this magic. She had been shocked at first. Astonished by what she had done, what she had accomplished, and taken aback by how crude this sort of magic was. And then, a great rush of adrenaline had overtaken her. She had wanted to go further.

Hermione had felt the first year struggling against the curse. His mind was surprisingly strong, but that only edged her on further. No one was stronger than her, no one could outsmart her. She had forced her will onto him, making him do whatever she wanted to see. Several times over, until his mind was broken and he cried miserably for her to stop. She wasn't stupid. She had made him forget, and removed herself from the pitiful scene, more enticed than ever by her skill and expertise.

„Detention, Miss Granger." a sharp voice cut through the air.

Hermione looked up into two cold, black eyes. She had been lost in thought, and Snape must have noticed. Fury immediately began to boil in her stomach at the thought that he had dared to address her. He would pay for forcing her into his life in such a manner, no doubt.

„What for?" Ron barked. As always, he was ready for a fight. Hemione should have felt flattered, but it took all her will not to snap at him to shut up. It wasn't his battle to fight... She didn't need him to stick up for her.

„Don't." she said soothingly instead.

„Repeatedly, I have addressed the issue of plagiarism in my class, yet, from the latest of your horrendous pieces of homework, it has become quite evident that my words have no been heeded."

„So why give her detention and not me?" Ron spat. Harry nodded furiously on his side.

„To eradicate the problem, one must erase it's source." Snape hissed smoothly. „And ten points from Gryffindor for speaking out of tune. Each." he added as Harry opened his mouth.

Hermione was impatient now for the bell to ring. She spent the rest of the lesson unconsciously taking notes, her brain occupied with ideas how she could make him regret that he ever gave her detention. As soon as the lesson was over, Snape sat back down behind his desk and waited until the crowd had cleared with his fingertips put together. He was still staring at her, regardless of the students still filtering out of the room. When the last of them had left, he dropped his pretense and his arms to the sides.

„Hermione..." he croaked.

„What do you think you're doing?" she hissed in response. His eyes were trained on hers with a silent plea, but she decided to ignore it. Instead, she began pacing in front of his desk, making sure that he could see her long legs and the soft swaying of her arse when she moved.

„I could not stand it, Hermione." his voice was barely a whisper.

„Don't call me that, you dimwit." she snapped. „I can report you to Dumbledore if I want to. Sexual harassment wont go down very well with your record of being the most giant, disgusting bat that has ever set foot in the castle."

Snape didn't reply. Aghast, he continued to look at her with wide eyes. Slowly, she made her way around his desk and sat down on its edge, facing him. He swallowed thickly, his eyes fixed on her feet. Without much ado, she raised it and pushed it against his groin. The hardness that met her toes was satisfying, and she allowed a taunting smile to spread onto her lips.

He took in a sharp breath, and Hermione meant to notice him shiver, but he stayed silent. He was afraid, but that hadn't stopped her the first time either. He was so much older, so much more resistant. So much more challenging. This time though, she worked another magic. In some ways, Severus Snape was even simpler than the first year. She didn't even need an _Imperius_ to hold him in place, to force her will onto him. He was dying to oblige without being hexed.

„I need you."

Hermione had to strain her ears to make out the words. It had been barely a whisper, and while she knew what he had said, she didn't approve of the manner of his quiet voice.

„What did you say? Speak up." she demanded.

She caressed him with her toes, until the material of his pants had reached the limit of strain they could take. It must be painful, she thought with delight as he squirmed silently. It took only so long until Snape was panting with his mouth open, revealing his ugly, crooked teeth. His thin features were distorted in agony. He met her eyes and his mouth moved, no doubt trying to form a plea for relief.

„I need you." he groaned. Her own body was responding to the pained words, blood rushing into her crotch again. She had to be careful. She wanted to feel him, but it wasn't yet time.

„Open them." she hissed, indicating the buttons of Snape's trousers with a jerk of her head.

„Hermione... It's not... I want..."

„Don't make me repeat myself." Hermione cut through his words. "I couldn't care less what you want."

His fingers were shaking so badly now that it took him several tries to open the buttons. Hermione snorted at the sight of an adult man losing his mind like that. She had been right about Severus Snape, he made a very good guinea pig. Desperate, old Snape, dying to speak with her, to be touched by her.

As soon as the fabric was out of the way, she pulled down his undergarments with her toes. She didn't waste time to take in the magnitude of his erection, but quickly laid they foot onto it. It was rock hard, pulsing at their contact. It was almost as if it was pushing her away, but Hermione pushed back. She curled her toes so that the edge of her shapely nails scratched over his skin. It immediately made him moan, but she wasn't sure if it was lust or pain this time. It hardly mattered.

In a daring moment, he stretched his fingers toward her, his eyes pleading with her to let him touch her. She kicked into his groin hard in response and, with a strangled cry, he immediately stopped reaching out. Disgusting.

„Do you remember Calvin Roads?" she asked.

The name registered immediately, and Snape's eyes went wide before they locked with hers.

„I see you do." she remarked. She had stopped stroking him momentarily, but resumed now that he was torn between the pleasure and the curiosity about what she had to say. His eyes fluttered shut, and she dug her nails into him again until they snapped open again.

„Do you want to know what I did with him?" she smirked. She had never talked to anyone about the unfortunate first year, and although he had forgotten what had happened, he hadn't been the same ever since. Many of the teachers had tried to speak to him, even Dumbledore, but he had no memory of the events. And even if a skilled wizard such as Dumbledore could lift the memory charm, she had made sure the first year had not seen her or heard her. No one connected her to the Dark Magic used on little Calvin.

„I can show you." Hermione said to Snape and withdrew her foot entirely. He was staring at her in horror, and for the teensiest second, she wondered if he would refuse her. Torturing him was one thing, abusing the students he had sworn to protect was another.

It was moments like this that rendered her unable to stop. Moments in which everything was thrown off balance so she could test how far she could go and how long it would take to break someone. If petrified by the prospect of knowing what had changed Calvin Roads, Snape stayed completely still. Yet again, her brilliance had won this battle.

„Use your hands." she said. „I want to see you now."

He looked even more shocked at that. Then, after moments had passed, Snape's hand travelled to his groin and he wrapped it around his erection tentatively. Hermione rested her foot on his thigh, feeling the blood rush through his veins on his bare skin. Carefully, he began to stroke himself, his gaze fixed on her's as he went. Despite her best effort, the sight appealed to her more than she had wanted to allow herself. Snape's pumping became faster, his pace quickened, and now his eyes repeatedly fluttered shut and snapped open again. Just as she thought that he was going to release any second, she pressed her big toe into his tip, making him howl in pain.

"Did I say I want you to come?" she snarled. When he looked up, his gaze was glassy, his eyes hazy with lust. „Get on your knees. Use your other hand too." and when he look at her uncomprehendingly, she lifted her skirt up and slid a hand over her arse and back. As he understood her implication, he gasped and she could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

Snape dropped from his chair and onto the ground. While stroking himself with one hand, he tentatively slid his other toward his backside. With another hesitant look at her, his fingers found the crack of his arse and disappeared into it slowly. Hermione watched carefully as he spread himself and slipped a finger inside tentatively.

Hermione swallowed. She had never thought he would obey this order. Her crotch was burning now with need, and wetness had long spread in her underwear. She needed to touch herself, or be touched. She watched as he dropped onto his elbow, awkwardly sprawled across the floor. One hand pumping his erection with need, the other sliding and and out of his arse. The picture was complete with loud, grunting and groaning noises.

Hermione stopped him once more, just as his breathing became hitched again, and the pulling frantic.

"You like this, don't you?" she said. He was bigger now than any she had ever seen him. Her pussy twitched longingly at the enticing sight of his swollen erection. She wanted him, wanted him filling her up and thrusting into her. She restrained herself. "Raise your hips."

It took him several seconds to fulfill her wish. Hermione drew her wand from her sleeve and casted a quick spell. She strapped the phallus-shaped device onto her hips and let the close end glide inside her. She had already become so wet that it was almost too small for her. She waved her wand until it filled her in earnest, and then at Snape, whose legs were immediately spread and bound by a piece of metal. He gasped in surprise. Hermione laid her wand aside and dropped behind Snape onto the ground.

She couldn't care less if he was prepared or not. With one forceful thrust, she pushed the strap on into him. He jerked in front of her, crying out in pain as his hips shook uncontrollably as it filled him to the hilt. The other end of the device slid even deeper into her, making her moan loudly with pleasure. She pulled out and thrust into him again and again and again.

Hermione left Snape to his own devices, focused only on her relief. It had to be like this, otherwise she might have found that she wanted him inside of her instead of the strap on. She had to restrain herself just as much as him.

Snape was now sobbing in pain. She felt only the slightest twitch of guilt, mingled with fear that she might have really hurt him. But he was still rubbing himself raw, and that had to be good enough for her. She didn't have time to care about her guinea pigs. It didn't take long until she had pushed herself over the edge, and she kept going until he had soiled the dungeon floor around him.

"Hermione... I..." he began when she had stood up again and magicked the strap on away.

"You're pathetic, Severus Snape." she hissed. "I do not wish to hear what you have to say."

And yet again, she marched out of the dungeons without paying him any more attention.


End file.
